900 Yrs Gone
by Fandomness
Summary: The Doctor has always been crazy, so what happens when he looses the memories and sense that kept his craziness on track? He's lost the Tardis and his companions, not that he recalls them anyway, and is taken into a mental hospital where he meets someone who hasn't met him yet... Re-vamped the summary. Worth a look in!
1. Chapter 1

Doctor Who One-Shot

"Excuse me! Sir? You alright?"

The stranger whirled to face the man, squinting into the darkness the flickering street lamps did nothing to alleviate and his face broke into a heady smile.

"Hello! Judoon! Ha!" he stumbled forward and the officer wasn't sure if he was drunk or just sincerely uncoordinated. "What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be on the moon?" without waiting for an answer he pressed on. "You haven't seen any ducks around here have you? Or possibly a roman?" He fumbled at his nose suggestively.

"Are you alright sir?" The officer asked, watching the man curiously. The stranger scowled.

"Or course I'm alright I'm always alright. I'm always a man too, never been a girl before, that's a good thing I think. Other people have been girls but I suspect they're rather better at it then I am. What about you? Have you ever been a girl?" This time it seemed he expected an answer and he studied the police men with genuine interest.

"I think you should come with me sir." He said slowly, offering a hand.

"Really? That's interesting... have you ever thought that before? Because I haven't, still don't. I'm rather happy right here I think...that might not last though I tend to get bored. Where are you going?"the stranger stared at the man's back as the copper turned, whispering into his radio.

"Okay sir. I'm gonna need you to come with me. If you do not or if resist I will have to use force."

"Oh...Not very nice are you? All the same thanks for the warning. You don't have a gun do you? I abhor guns!"

"It is a requirement for my job."

"Oh. There you see, I like you even less now. And this all started off so well. Still...things to do, people to see. So, where do you want to start?"

The officer, which the stranger decided to dub Turtle, after his rather domed head, took him by the arm and began to lead him down the street, stopping beside a dingy looking police car and fumbling at the door.

"Ooh! Look! Flashy lighty things! I like flashy lighty things, I think, also crayons. Have you got a crayon? A nice blue one? Maybe a little ketchup and mustard, with some fried sheep's eyes, you would be surprised how good fried sheep's eyes taste after a week of nothing but Blurg bread. Enough ketchup and you barely notice the squishy bits. Are you a chameleon? You look a bit green. But then I suppose you are a turtle."

"Get in." Turtle choked, gesturing feebly.

"Thanks. Does your car have a name? My car had a name her name was Bessy, or was it Sexy? Have you seen any ponds around here?" the man was talking so fast it was hard for Turtle to keep up, so when he stopped expectantly the officer got a bit whip lashed.

"Er...No. No ponds for a few miles around the city."

"Really? Not one? Strange. How about a river? Got one of those have you?"

"No." Turtle replied shortly, keeping his eyes fixed on the road as he pulled away from the curb.

"Oh. I had one once, a river, it died though the computer ate it. But it came back, rivers do that I think. So do I. So do roses. Have you got a Rose?" the question seemed of the utmost importance and the man leaned forward in his seat as if craving his answer.

"Sure. Lots of people got roses."

"Really? Have you got one? Can I have one? Why can't I have one?!" he demanded without waiting for the officer's answer.

"Look buddy, you find a rose you like you can have it." Turtle assured him, hoping against hope that he wouldn't take this as permission to rip up somebody's flowerbed. The stranger beamed.

"You know what...I like you Turtle. Especially when you're not green!"

'Turtle' wasn't quite sure what to think of that statement.

"Look, Marge. This guy wouldn't hurt the grass he walks on! I just don't want to put him in lock up with a bunch of drunken punks and come back to his shredded corpse, just admit him for a few days, I'm sure someone will come looking for him."

Marge looked over her horn rimmed spectacles at officer Spencer's slumped form and clicked her gum uncertainly.

"I don't know Spence, there's too much about this guy we don't know! What if we gave him something and it ended up harmin' the little loonbug."

"Please Marge, I'm beggin' here, it's either this or a night at the station..." He trailed away both of them moving to peer over his shoulder at the stranger he'd brought with him. He was standing in the middle of the hallway staring intently at a flickering light but when he saw them he leaped forward.

"Hello! Good to see you, where are my patients?" He leaned over the counter and fixed Marge with an easy smile, his eyes shining with a youthful integrity that undermined his size. Marge sighed and gave Spencer a bitter look.

"No patients tonight hon, only bed."

"Bed? Oh wonderful, sleep well, see you in the morning then. Come along Turtle." He spun on his heel and made to stride toward the door but the officer stopped him quickly.

"Not for me hon," Marge shook and admonishing finger, her gum clicking away between her teeth. "Now we'll just sort a few questions and get you situated. Name?"

The stranger smiled at her, his expression empty of comprehension. Marge gave him a level look through her specs. "You got a name right hon?"

"Oh," the grin on his face widened if that was possible and he began to pat himself down. "Lets see, I'm sure I have you around here somewhere..." His voice faded as his hands disappeared down what suddenly seemed like cavernous pockets.

"Yeah, I'll just put Smith 'kay Lovely? And we'll figure out the rest later."

"Yes! I'm a Smith sometimes I think, but not always! Only sometimes..."

Marge nodded easily as the man rambled away into mumbles.

"Alright age?"

"Old, Victorian age probably, possibly the age of rock... maybe both."

"No, how old are you?" the receptionist bit back a sigh. It had been a while since she'd met someone this over the moon, most of her patients at least knew the gist of their general information.

"Old. Very old, I've been around a few times, knocking down blocks, I'm eleven I think? That's a good age isn't it? Eleven?"

"Lovely." Marge agreed scribbling down a neat 24. "You know if you're allergic to anything sweets?"

"Pears. I hate pears. Or I used to...bacon! I hate bacon, that's poison that is." he sniffed self righteously, pulling at the crooked maroon bow about his neck.

Marge kept up her easy nodding, ignoring officer Spencer's quiet snickering in the background.

"Okay, I think that's enough information to live with, Spence? Why don't you show Mr. Smith to his room?" She held out a key, giving Turtle a level look that Smith followed with interest.

"OH! Are you staying here Turtle? Is that what this is tome sort of hotel?" his blinding smile frazzled into a frown. "It's not got gorillas in it has it?"


	2. Chapter 2

**I do not own Doctor Who**

**R&R please! Hope you enjoy!**

"Morning Bert." Rose Tyler was 18 and had been working at the psych ward for two months, after dropping out on her A levels, and still pleased to come into work most days. She got on well with the patients and the orderlies all loved her, but she wasn't planning on sticking around, she had dreams of Hendricks, and traveling with Jimmy Stone.

"Hey Rosie do us a favor and take care of the guy in room 11, he's been up for hours."

"Sure. Who is he?"

"Don't know, form just says Smith. Police brought him in last night."

"He dangerous?"

"Naw, just loony. Poor sap don't even know his name."

Frowning in sympathy Rose shed her coat and made her way down the hall.

Someone was knocking. Smith looked up from his frantic scribbling, running a hand through his hair and leaving a smudge of blue on his forehead.

"Hello?" It was as if a star had walked through the door, gleaming gold light radiated out of her...no. She was just...beautiful. "Mr. Smith?"

"No." He leaped to his feet. "Not mister. Never been a mister, well...never for long. I'm-" He lurched upright hand outstretched, but there was no word to put next...nothing. "I'm..." He smiled slightly, a hand went up to scratch his head and his face became bitter. "I'm...Someone."

"I'll bet you are." Rose smiled. "Bit of an artist too. Where did you get all this..." She looked around at the color smeared walls. "Paint."

"I found it. In my pockets. I found a lot of things in my pockets, a banana, I ate that though, tickets to the Beatles, I really have to remember to go to that, love the Beatles. And a..." He fiddled with his pockets for a bit while Rose watched, highly amused. Bert had been right, just a harmless looney. A good looking one to although, the chin... "Planet!" He let out an insane laugh. "Can you believe it? Just sitting here digging through my pockets and I find a planet!" Rose looked at the ball in his hand, it was a curious little bauble. It had lights glowing out of it like stars, and the little jade ball did appear to be rotating. But Rose didn't have to be a genius to know that the thing surrounding it was plastic.

"Plastic planet, pretty cool."

"What? It's not plastic, no... it's made up of dirt and stone, like earth! Except for the radiation levels...and carnivorous, _bunnies..._"

Rose chewed her lip, watching his face sober and fought a grin. He turned on her suddenly, all excitement gone, his face dark.

"Who are you?" He looked her up and down, digging in his pockets again.

"Oh, righ' I'm-" She blinked as a light filled her eyes. "Rose."

Smith who was studying the handle of the flashlight he was holding looked up suddenly.

"Rose?" His face filled with hesitant awe. "Rose?ROSE?" He was slowly growing more and more manic. "Rose! Rose!" He did a spin, reaching out to grasp her gleefully by the shoulders. "ROSE." His grin blinked out. "Can I have you?"

"What?"

"Can I have you? Turtle said I could have a Rose. Can I have you?"

She stared into his earnest, unsettling green eyes, so filled with youth, wisdom and sheer joy...

And she almost, said yes.

"Erm,sorry. I already got myself a bloke. Jimmy Stone, musician, him and his band."

Smith was frowning at her pleased smile.

"_Stone_? What are you doing with a _stone_? Who wants a stone? All they do is weigh you down, trust me," His hand dove back into his pocket. "I've got plenty of them." a handful of pebbles (and one bright pink bouncy ball) scattered free of his hand.

Rose watched in baffled amusement as the ball bounded across the room, and then at the various tubes of finger paint and boxes of wax crayons.

"Where are you keepin' all this stuff?"

"I told you, it's in my pocket! Both of them! All of them! How many pockets have I got?" His voice trailed away in confusion as he began snooping through his own tweed jacket.

"Well however many you've got now you're only gonna have about three when I'm done with ya'."

He looked up in alarm.

"What? Why? What are you going to do? Are you going to eat me? I've been eaten before you know! And I don't like it!"

Rose laughed easily and shook her head.

"I'm not gonna eat you! Although I could, look tasty enough...what'd you 'spose you taste like?" she smiled, her tongue poking from her teeth.

"Lets see." He licked his arm loudly, sending Rose into another fit of giggles, and made a face. "Like paint and dirt a bit." he grimaced, taking another lick. "Not at all tasty." He looked up at her frowning thoughtfully...and lunged without warning.

Rose let out a small shriek of surprise as Smith seized her by the arms and licked her forehead. He backed up, moving his tongue around his mouth, debating.

"Oh, yuck.." Rose gaped at him in disbelief, smearing spit from her face.

"Not bad." He swallowed, smacking his lips and eying her like he might want another small taste. "A bit like dried peaches."

"Really? Peaches?"

"Just a bit, the rest is all sweat and face powder." He frowned again, decidedly put out.

"That'l be the body wash then..." Rose nodded slowly, watching him, he was pacing the circumference of the room, tapping it in places and inspecting it closely.

"Will it? That's interesting. Do you _wash_ you're body? Do _I_ wash my body?" He whirled to face her. "How do I get out of here?"

Rose blinked, trying to sort out his endless slew of questions.

"You can come with me, I'll set you up with some clothes and breakfast."

"I've got clothes."

"You can't wear that."

"Why not?" He was frowning at her again, fiddling with his bow tie.

"'S not allowed. Don't worry though. We'll keep it safe for ya' then when your...family, or someone comes to get you we'll give um back. Yeah?"

He wasn't sure. It sounded reasonable. But his mind still rebelled against it. This is what he wore, nothing, NOTHING else. Still...she was pretty. So he shrugged smiling, and followed her out of the room.

"No."

"Come on Smith, I need it."

"No, no absolutely not!"

"Patients can't wear anything but the uniform, that's the rule."

"I'm not a patient. I'm a doctor."

"Not here you're not." _Not anywhere with a brain like this._

"NO."

Finally after half an hour of arguing, Rose gave it up.

And let him keep the bow tie.


	3. Chapter 3

**I do not own Doctor Who. **

**R&R please.**

Rose watched Smith beam at her as she set the loaded plate in front of him. He wasn't like the other people she dealt with, other patients, less definable... other people were easier to map, you could see the lines where the crazy and sanity overlapped. Sometimes you could see it in how the insanity presented itself, and others you could see it because it wasn't always there. But with Smith she couldn't seem to find it. There was no sanity in him and yet it never seemed to leave. To be honest she wasn't quite sure what to do with him. So she settled for feeding him breakfast.

Smith was inspecting his plate with the same cheery grin that never seemed to leave his face. He plucked the banana from the corner, tucking it into a pocket and frowning when it continued to poke out noticeably.

"Squareness gun. I never liked them." He mumbled, trying to push it further into the pocket on his shirt. Rose 'hmm'ed in agreement. The banana suitably taken care of he turned to the rest of his tray. He took one look at the toast and tossed it over his shoulder, ignoring Rose's squawks of protest. She huffed at him and went to clean it up, he continued his exploration. The scrambled eggs suffered the same fate as the toast after passing under the light of Smith's flashlight, which he insisted on keeping with him, though nothing about it seemed to please him. This left his jello and his juice and Rose really didn't look forward to picking those up if they didn't pass the inspection. Luckily the jello seemed to please him and he muttered something about 'akhaten' and new flavors.

"Smith, you really need to eat something else..." Rose frowned in concern while Smith gave her a red stained grin. "Come on, there must be somethin' you wanna eat?"

He debated this, chewing slowly, (and uselessly, really) before swallowing heavily and turning bright eyes on her.

"Do you have custard? And fish!" he lurched to his feet, that same desperate _need _filling his face that had been present when he'd learned her name. "Yes. Fish feet, fish head...brains...spleen! Ahhh! Something!" He beat a fist against his head softly. "It's important! It matters!" He tugged at his hair, the tension growing in his face.

"Alright. Alright. Hey!" Rose stepped forward, prying his fingers from his scalp and holding them between her palms. "Alright. We'll figure it out? Yeah?" He was still twitching and mumbling, head bowed, eyes squeezed shut as if in pain. She tilted his face towards her, stroking a finger down his cheek. His eyes fluttered open, focusing on her with an emptiness that took her breath.

"Who am I?" His voice was so soft she might have missed it if it wasn't fanning across her face. She shook her head slowly, opening her mouth for a moment, before realizing there was nothing she could say. So she stroked his cheek one more time and when he lunged forward and wrapped his arms around her she didn't stop him. When the other orderlies stepped forward in concern she waved them down, and let him hold her, cradling his his head against her shoulder.

"Rose Tyler." His breath fanned across her neck, his bow tie chafing against her collarbone. "My- Not mine." He pulled back, refusing to meet her eyes. "Stone's Rose. Jimmy Stone." he mumbled sourly, twisting away from her hands. He turned from her, and she could feel the rage coming off him. The rage and confusion and just _raw _pain, swirling around her, like standing on the edge of a storm. And he was the eye, all stillness, poised. The rest of the world continued, making noises, and movements, but in the wake of him...everything seemed silent and still. And then the dam broke, the storm struck, Smith rushed forward with a broken cry that had her every hair on end, he grabbed the table and _heaved. _Upturning trays and glasses, dislodging people and breaking the calm with a crash. And still his scream of rage continued. Orderlies rushed in from every corner, big, strong men, and they grabbed at his elbows and shoulders and he shook them off and the storm continued, but now there were words. Broken. Angry. Words.

"WHY! WHY! WHY! WHYYYYYYYYYY!" his face was flushed and clenched and he turned on the orderlies, ripping at them, shredding. "WHY CAN'T I HAVE IT! KEEP IT! WHY DON'T I KNOW-" he slumped, suddenly drained, and the needle plunged into his arm and still he kept talking. "Why can't I...why do I always lose..." he ran a hand down his face, his movements slurred and drunken. "Who am I...why aren't I...why can't I be..." His knees buckled and his last word was a breath, a sigh she wasn't sure she heard.

"Happy."


End file.
